Practically Unhinged
by Cassandra Lane
Summary: Cyrus and James' relationship has never been under so much strain. Cyrus knows so much and it weighs down on him until something snaps. James will have to figure out where he stands and where his heart really lies. Will things come out on top or will remaining fragments of their relationship blow away.
1. A Thunderous Silence

Cyrus had heard all sorts of rumors about old age. He had heard that his ability to concentrate would drop. Bullshit. He had heard that his hearing would snuff out like a candlelight and his sight would narrow. Also Bullshit. He had heard many many things about his libido. Absolute Bullshit. He wasn't really that old and he knew all the talk was crap but he was excepting one thing pleasant on the horizon.

It was sleep. All the old people snooze like they're dead since they're already so damn close. Everyone knows that old people sleep more and they stay damn well asleep through everything short of an earthquake and even then the odds are to be reckoned with. He was expecting that in return for his gray hairs and slowly slacking skin that at the least, at the very least he would be able to sleep a tad better. We have come all the way around to Bullshit again.

Cyrus lay in bed that night eyes wide open and staring into the nothingness of the dark room. He did not breath for minutes at a time; he just lay there still and unhappy. He was a political monster, a monstrous human even and he knew that. He knew he had fucked things over in his marriage and he knew that he no dirt on Sally for the election.

He knew so much shit and usually that didn't really get to him. Usually Cyrus Beene could think through anything, he had the wits and the resources and the finances to fix just about anything. They called Olivia the professional fixer but hell if he wasn't one too. He held together this great nation with his small meaty fingers and he knew that things were falling apart. He wasn't stupid and this re-election would be a hell of an uphill battle sitting president or not. His president had a wang problem, his first lady was a cold hearted shrew and his campaign manager was his presidents whore. How utterly wonderful things were going for him.

The worst thing was that none of these things were at the center of his attention; not a single glaring problem in his administration or campaigning was taking the spotlight. If he focuses on anything of that nature long enough he'd sort through it, there were always arrangements to be made or people to look into and slowly with a nudge here and there the problems would begin to fall away.

He happened to be thinking about the cold space beside him where his husband ought to be. James was taking a shower; he hadn't left him just yet but Cyrus felt the storm brewing and he knew that it was only a matter of time. With a terrible sort of certainty Cyrus knew that his husband would leave him. Then the bed would always be cold and he would always be consumed in the thunderous silence of himself; draped in the cool air of loneliness. He would never subtly fall into slumber but rather he would plummet into it riding on the tail of some half baked nightmare of late.

He took a shallow breath and returned to the dark well of his thoughts. He had whored out his husband, whored him out to a nasty closet hillbilly. A buff lacrosse playing smooth faced hillbilly. It was stupid and dangerous and he was officially a glorified pimp. He was the the sacrilegious trinity: satan, lucifer and the evil spirit. He had broken their marriage. Thats how James had articulated it and he was damn well right to. What kind of human being offers up there own husband in a honeyed pot?

Ella was snoozing in across the hall and the water in the bathroom was dripping slower. The pitter patter had been steady for so long it was almost white noise. His husband had started taking excessively long showers, lounging there for hours at a time doubtlessly to avoid Cyrus for as long a physically possible.

Cyrus was still awake. He stayed up until the end of his husband's shower for days. He was suddenly nervous. How could he sleep with the his lovers eyes glaring viciously at him. How could he lull himself into the false security of his husbands presence when fate willed that it would soon be a lavish memory.

This was absurd. Cyrus was not a teenage girl hopped up on hormones and romance novels. He did not speculate on the futures woes or spin himself sad dramas. He dealt with what was and he played his hand to its highest reach. He needed to pull himself together and figure out how to handle this like a straightforward issue.

Then again that was his problem wasn't it. He treated his marriage like it was just another asset to utilize, like something he could fix with strategy but it wasn't that. It was the holiest thing in his godforsaken life and it was a human thing. He needed to fix it with humanity and kindness or something normal people did. He needed to fix it in a way that hadn't the slightest idea about.

The water shut off and he heard footsteps approaching. It was so much, it was all so much and he just didn't know. He couldn't fix it, it wasn't his field, he didn't know. The world was already dark but somehow the darkness was shifting around him.

He felt the breath hitch painfully in his lungs and his chest squeezed. It wasn't some melodramatic 'heart squeezed' romance bullshit either; it was an intense pain and it flared through chest and unfurled fierce and low in his belly. He let out an soundless moan and he felt a stiffness in his jaw. Sweat gathered the crook of neck, the base of his spine and every nook in between. His left arm spasmed and he wretched over to one side. His mouth hung open and the blackness was starting to settle a bit through the searing pain. This was it wasn't it, he was being claimed by that stupid ass deity everyone was always rambling about. He surged upward like a man possessed and then fell flatter and lay stiller than he thought possible. He had gone to far and his punishment was hither.


	2. Breathe

The shower had always been a place of refuge for James but he never indulged in taking them to such a degree until very recently and with good reason. Recently had not been a very easy time. Cyrus had betrayed him and unveiled the little devil within and it was more of a devil then James was really expecting. He had been played, used and plopped into a nasty political scheme. James had slept with another man who was now dead under mysterious circumstances. He had packed up an entire suitcase and was ready to leave when he had realized that he had no where to go. He had a shitty job and the most unhealthy relationship of all time. He had a darling little daughter unaware that any of this was going on. Recently was a very good time to start taking long showers.

The water was sharp and smooth and it hit him right at the top of his shoulders and slide down into every crevice. Here he was warm, safe and soothed. He could let the rhythm of the drops encompass him and the flow of the water to wash it all away. There was nothing but water and self in the steamy dimness.

Every now and then a thought would creep in uninvited. For example _Why am I going to david rosen for help?_ because that sure worked out swell and dandy the first time; or the fantastic _why in gods name am I still sleeping in the same bed as that man? _Sometimes he felt the ghost of a hand on his thighs or the trail of kisses down his belly or the swish of a tongue light and sweet on the tip of his prick. He felt that horrible night where his marriage shattered into a thousand shards and it was ingrained in the movement of his skin. He doesn't really know if he regrets doing those things but it certainly felt like a tainted memory.

If only Cyrus hadn't been such a damn fool. Who does that to the person they love, the person they married? Who can really separate themselves so far from reality that they can concede to using there own husband as a pawn in their political chess game ?

The thoughts came and went and slipped through him as the water rolled. He really had a phenomenal shower, the pressure was customizable and the heat just right every time. It was just hot enough to make him cringe but when we adjusted to it, it was heavenly. His heaven and safe haven was right here, apart from it all. It had probably been over two hours so he turned the pressure down a bit as he always did and took his final moments. He stretched his arms over his head and turned his face directly into the stream of water. Then he turned the water with off no small amount of apprehension.

He snatched the nearest towel and dried himself off. Linen pajamas on and he was off to bed. He would sleep with the traitor once more. He hoped Cyrus was asleep because when he lay there silently awake it was too hard. Cyrus never was an easy sleeper. James used to burrow into his side and wrap his hands around that belly of his and just listen until the breathing slowed and then he'd let himself drift off.

Now he still listened, he couldn't help it for some reason. He definitely had enough hate in the reserve to reason against it but he just listened. When Cyrus was awake his breath hissed a bit which meant he was really tired but too much was on his mind. Sometimes it was shallow which meant stress in great doses. He noticed and he had no concern so why was it harder to nod off. He couldn't answer you that.

James headed into the bedroom and had the sudden desire to read the post. He turned on his bedside lamp and saw Cyrus skewed to one side and mouth wretched open. His breathing, well he wasn't breathing. Oh god he wasn't breathing, he wasn't oh, oh god. James grabbed the nearest phone and punched the buttons with such ferocity it surprised him. He was so angry and scared that god damn idiot had to go and have another heart attack just to spice things up didn't he.

The phone trilled and James thumped Cyrus repeatedly on the chest and wondered if he should be giving him CPR or something. Do you give CPR during a heart attack? Was this even a heart attack? He couldn't be sure just yet.

"911 whats your emergency"

" My husband, Uh I think I think he he he's had a heart attack and he isn't breathing and I was in the shower and know he is not that young and "

"Sir you have to give me your adress so I can send and ambulance and then I will walk you through the steps of everything you should be doing. Alright honey, calm down, he'll be just fine"

"I, We live at on 67 Holly Brook Ave. What do I do? Should I do CPR, should I whack his back, WHAT DO I DO?"

"You are going to give your husband CPR, do you have training?"

"No, I don't how much training. Is he going to die because I don't have training. I'm asthmatic and I never practiced on the damn dummies. "

" Calm down sir, You need to stay in control of this situation until the paramedics arrive. Place one hand on the on the top of your husbands head and another underneath and then tilt it upwards. Pinch his nostrils and breath into his mouth for about 2 seconds. Then you're going to find your husbands sternum and place both hands one over the other in that place. Push down with straight elbows and begin compressing his chest and releasing. Do this ten times and then repeat the process from the beginning "

James did as he was told and he repeated it again and again to the letter. He felt desperation crawling into the cavities of his chest. Blow air, Pinch Nose, Find sternum, PUSH PUSH PUSH, and repeat. Then suddenly he heard the faintest breath and stopped.

"HE's Breathing He's breathing what do I do? He's not awake but he's breathing. This is good right. He won't die he's breathing."

"Thats wonderful sir, now just wait until the ambulance arrives and turn your husband on his side. That will help him breathe better."

"Thank you, Thank you so much. I, he's breathing. I never knew how much I missed his sound, oh breathing, I missed it. Thank You"

The paramedics came and they loaded Cyrus unto a gurney and James went along. He didn't realize he was crying until someone had handed him a tissue. His husband was breathing. It was funny how he'd almost stopped thinking of him as a husband. He was a monster but he was still a husband. He was still angry and scared and he didn't know up from down anymore. One thing was for damn sure, his husband was breathing.


	3. Limbo

James was torn between so many possibilities that he thought he might have his own heart attack soon. Thats would be something wouldn't it; two gay dads in the hospital stressed half to death. The conservatives and fundamentalists would have a party and talk about the will of Jesus and how all the gays were doomed. Great, Great, everything was just great.

He didn't want to forgive his husband. He really didn't want to let all the crap he'd been through be reduced to a bump on the road. He didn't want to raise Ella alone and start over and put his whole existence at risk. He didn't want his husband to die. He wanted his stupid asshole husband to breathe by his side every night. He also didn't want to sleep near him ever again.

It was complicated and unfair and none of this was making any sense. Normal people went to therapists or got marriage counseling. What was he going to do, torture some poor women under the pretense of patient confidentiality. '_Oh hello, I'm doing just fine. My husband had a heart attack and I am having trouble dealing with it because I cheated on him. But, I only cheated on him because he set me up in a political scheme to out and publicly shame the vice president's husband. The vice president also killed her husband by the way and before my husband had his heart attack he probably helped clean that up. Oh side note my husband also rigged the last national election. Why am I still with him you may ask. Well I have have no leverage to leave, I have a baby daughter and in a really fucked up way I think I still love him. I didn't let him die anyway and I am obsessed with listening to him breathe. Oh also I have been taking 2 to 3 hour showers on a daily basis to avoid reality. What should I do?_' He would be committed to an asylum or his husband would be arrested and possibly both.

Currently, he was sitting in a dimly lit hospital waiting room. There was a teenage girl across from him in a slim fitting lavender jumpsuit. She had streaky bright pink hair cut in a severe bob and she had swollen tired eyes. Maybe he should do this the old fashion way and rant to the nearest soul. The poor girl probably had some of her own problems to deal with if her eyes were any indicator and especially considering they were at a hospital. Maybe he should go home and get Ella and just cuddle her and read to her. The hospital would call when Cy woke up. The doctor was pretty sure that it was only a matter of hours. His vitals had stabilized but he was still unconscious.

He didn't move an inch. He couldn't seem to make any decisions at all and his body rejected the possibility of movement. The girl across from him stood very suddenly and crossed the room. He assumed she was headed out or toward the magazine rack or something. She sat down next to him.

"Hello. My name is Katilla. My therapist says that when I am very sad the best thing to do is talk it out except when I do it alone I feel crazy. So I do it in my head and then I feel crazier" Amen to that sister; James felt like a psychopath on the edge.

"Anyway, I know you are probably here for someone and you might be really sad. I think that you need to talk about it. Your mouth keeps twitching and its making me nervous." She had such a blunt and upfront manner about her. It was demanding but James hardly knew how to respond.

"Alright. You think I am crazy or you think that you are going through something so complicated I won't understand. Or maybe its super private or confidential. Whatever it is you are wrong. You need to talk before you pop and if you keep up looking crazed and desperate that old lady over there will have to come over to comfort you." She pointed to an elderly women snoozing in a wheelchair.

He thought about what it was he could tell her. He certainly wanted to talk.

"My husband had a heart attack. I gave him CPR. He'll be fine but he's still out cold. I am angry with him and he's pretty much the devil. I don't even know if I still want to be with him but I am very happy he is alive and I don't know what to think or feel and I haven't forgiven him."

She had soft brown eyes and they trailed over his face as he spoke. She pondered for a moment and ran a hand through her exotic hair.

"My mom fainted from dehydration. She'll be fine in a few days. She's awake and everything but they think she needs more time alone to rest. I think she wasn't drinking or eating because of a wedding coming up and she wanted to look better in her dress. It scares me that she can do things like this. I am upset that she did this to herself and I want to comfort her but I don't want her to think that this is in any way okay. She wants everyone in her house and life to be perfect down to the inch. She's pretty crazy but I can't leave the house until I'm 18 which isn't for another year. She doesn't know that I have a girlfriend and it would probably send her to the hospital if she wasn't already here. She hates my hair. Things are complicated."

She leaned over and took his hand into his and just held it. Katilla was still and solemn and her eyes spoke volumes more than her words. They didn't know what to say to each other but the fact that they had spoken at all was kind of liberating. He had said out loud that his husband was the devil and that he sort of loved him and he was not in an insane asylum yet. After about an hour a nurse came in and told Katilla if she wanted to she could go see her mother now. Katilla squeezed James's hand and stood up. She looked him right in the eyes.

"Do what feels right. Its cliche and its horrible advice and I mean it. I am going to go in there and give my mother a big kiss on the cheek. I am going to tell her everything is fine and we are probably going to cry. I will probably feel the need to out myself at least twice. I won't. We'll go home and in a week she'll yell at me about my hair. Someday something will change and I will really tell her and we'll cry more. I don't know when that is. I don't really know how any of this works or if I will actually do anything I just said. But it feels right so I might as well go with that." Then she strode off down a corridor. James would probably never see her again. What an extraordinary young women.

He was alone now and time passed with a thickness. It was getting to be quite late and he would have to pick up Ella from the neighbors before they went to work. It was bad enough he bothered them in the middle of the night to watch her, but what could he do? They had three kids and they knew the drill. He rose and asked the nearest doctor how Cyrus was doing.

Someone went off to look into it. Do what felt right. What felt right? He wanted to go into that hospital room and kiss his husband on his sweaty balding head and listen to the man's breath as it flowed. He wanted to be sure the asshole was alive and he wanted to raise his daughter in a their beautiful house. He wanted redress for grievances and he wanted his pain to be validated. Everything felt strange, foreign and decidedly not right. Maybe it would dawn on him or maybe he would find some super high profile therapist who wouldn't have him indicted. A doctor entered the waiting room with an unreadable expression.

"Is there a Mr. Novak here?" he inquired gently. He was a medium sized man with round eyes and a large flat nose. He was not a scary man and yet when he spoke James was filled with an indescribable fear. His husband had survived a heart attack before and he had been fine. There is nothing to fear, nothing at all.

"Yes, thats me."

"Your husband's vitals remain stable but he seems to have slipped into a coma of some sort. We aren't sure why he hasn't woken up yet but we are working toward finding the root of the issue."

"Can I go and see him?"

"Yes of course."

He was lead down a long white corridor with grey speckled floors and warm yellow lights. One left and then another and then one right and a few more feet straight and he was arrived. The monitors beeped quietly and his husband was laid out like a corpse. He was attached to a few machines and there were needles everywhere. His face was wane and greyish and his hair was slick with sweat. His eyes were closed but they seemed off somehow.

"He doesn't look alright. He's had a heart attack before and afterwards he was up within minutes and his skin was never this pale. Are you sure you didn't miss something? Did you take it on faith that he had a heart attack because I was in the shower and all I know is he wasn't breathing and then I gave him CPR and then he was."

"Sir. Sir. Please calm down and slow down. We are running tests right now to check for other ailments but thus far it appears he's had a more severe heart attack. Perhaps because it went unnoticed longer or perhaps because of increased stress. We will do our best and please try not to worry too much."

The doctor reached out an arm and patted him on the shoulder. "Stay strong." he said and briskly exited the room. Stay strong the man says. What is it with people? Who pats someone on the shoulder like they had a bad day or a bad ball game? This wasn't little league baseball and he was a grown ass man whose husbands health was in a questionable state. Stay strong he says and he can kiss my ass.

James sat down on the side of the bed and looked at his husbands face. He hadn't really looked at it for some time now. He was breathing through one of those nose was a new wrinkle on his brow line and he had a shaving nick right under his chin. It was a tired face, a face that hadn't slept properly for weeks maybe months.

"You can't keep doing this you know. You can't keep having a heart attack every damn time our marriage hits a rough spot. Its going to kill one of us and its most likely going to be you. I know this wasn't any old rough spot but this doesn't mean you're off the hook. You are still the devil but now you're the devil with heart problems. Clearly the conservatives are onto something because I am getting damn friendly with satan. I miss him at night. I don't really know how this going to play out but you should really wake up. I have to go get Ella soon and I want to yell at you first for scaring the shit out of me. You know I don't have CPR training. Asshat."

He leaned forward and kissed the man on the temple and put one hand on his sweaty cheek. He felt the tears well up and roll down fat and salty. The landed mostly on Cyrus's chest and James had completely curled up at his side.

Do what feels right. Nothing really feels right anymore but it would feel right again. The path wasn't straight buy hell neither was he. He almost fell asleep there but he needed to keep checking his watch. It was almost 5 am and he needed to go and pick ella up and then wait with her until daycare opened at 7. He rose and took a last lingering look at his husband. Do what feels right.

"WAKE UP YOU ASSHOLE! I WANT TO TALK TO YOUR STUPID FACE" he shouted. If only he could say that the man's eyes fluttered open. They stayed closed and James was out the door trying very hard to discontinue his intense crying. He was off to get his baby and figure out his strange life.


	4. Fragments

David Rosen had called him 7 times in the past half hour. James did not want to talk to him. He didn't was to decide where his allegiance lay and honestly everything was being called back into question. He had dropped Ella off at daycare in a sort of haze. Everything was either completely empty of thought or overwhelming. When he poured coffee he was okay and things were normal. When he sat alone in the car driving to the hospital the whole world was hanging off a cliff. He could stick his head into the vipers nest that was the future or he could immerse himself so thoroughly in the mundane that there was only a now.

The phone rang again, it was thin trilling sound. It was so going to drive him insane if he heard it one more time.

"Hello."

"Where have you been? I have been calling you nonstop for the past two hours. There's been a major development and I need you to use Publius to"

"Wait David. I am at the hospital right now. Cyrus had another heart attack and I really don't want to think about this right now. Please just stop calling me for today alright."

"Oh, of course. I'm so sorry, I, I don't know what to say. How are you feeling?"

Well clearly he felt fucking fantastic. Just phenomenal, Never better. Most human beings were obviously not equipped to deal with situations requiring tack.

"I'm. I'm not fine. I don't really know. I'll speak to you tomorrow or something. I have to go." James hung up with a forceful tap. God sometimes he just missed snapping a phone closed.

A swish of red and a splash of purple darted across his vision. There was a vast lake stretching endlessly before him. He was rocking in a small white rowboat, except that he knew that he wasn't really in the boat but somewhere else. He wasn't sure where else yet but he was trying to find his way there. Ripples creased the along the surface and colored fish bobbed up to every now and again.

He'd always loved to fish as a little boy. His father only spoke on the water. He was a quiet man with few things to say. On the lake his father spoke about what the wind meant and how to hook the worm for the best bait. He talked about the way the water talked and how if they were quiet enough they could listen.

Then after months and years they fell into the silent habitat and once again there was no need for words. Cyrus had always loved to talk. He would talk right through a case of whooping cough. His voice wound him over under and around any problem that arose. The water was an exception though and words could not flow as smoothly as a river or be as still as a pond. The water was exempt from the constant competition on land.

This was strange water though because it kept talking to him. Sometimes it scolded him 'you can't keep doing this you know' and sometimes it yelled at him 'STUPID FACE'. What a strange insult to lake sometimes quivered and shook and sometimes it sobbed quietly.

Then there was a whirring sound and the lake was widening and the water was slipping away. The lake began to spin inward and as the swirls intensified the surroundings began to fade. He was spinning and spinning. The wooden boat morphed and creaked.

He was sitting on a bench and holding a cup of coffee. There was a man sitting next to him with dark brown hair and stern eyes. He wore glasses and a tight fitting blazer. He was really quite attractive. Maybe he should buy this man a coffee.

He began to stand and then there was only whiteness everywhere and it was surging and twisting.

"Doctor, It's been two days and you told me it would be two hours. I don't understand why you won't tell me whats going on. It's always we are looking into it or please 'sir' calm down. Is he dying? Should I be getting things in order? Is he going to live and are you doing anything to answer these damn questions." Doctor Silverstein was taken aback. He wasn't used to dealing with so many questions. Most people just accepted his authority and waited quietly. "Mr. Novak. I assure you we are doing the best we can. The reason we aren't answering all your questions is because there are no definites in situations such as these. Your husband could have a full recovery within the hour or his condition could worsen. Only time will tell." This man had a fucking medical degree. Only time will tell if he could make it out of this hospital without punching some dim wit in the face.

The color had mostly returned to Cyrus's face and his breathing was slow and steady. He should be awake by now and clearly the doctors couldn't come up with a reason otherwise. Maybe he was faking it to avoid confrontation. He reached out and poked him in the ribs a few times; no response. James had called in sick two days in a row just to sit here and mope around. He sat on the bed and cried every hour or so and then he would pace the room. Sometimes he remembered that he was ready to head for the hills and never look back just a few weeks ago. He almost didn't care anymore. All his problems started to look less and less important as the possibility of death loomed larger. He would figure all of the other stuff out in time as the douchey doctor had so eloquently put it. "James. Oh my goodness, I am so sorry I couldn't get here sooner. How is he? How are you?" Olivia Pope was there holding a small potted plant and her eyes were wide. That was a horrible sign. He couldn't think of a worse omen then a flummoxed fixer.

"This isn't one of the things you can fix, is it ?" he replied. Maybe she had some magic up her sleeve that he wasn't aware of.

"Oh. James." Suddenly he was enveloped in an a firm hug. "He's gonna be fine. He's going to be just fine. Do you think he would miss the election for a heart attack. He almost shot a paramedic last time and it wasn't even the primaries."

That was true, he remembered hearing that story over dinner. It was him, Cyrus and Olivia and they were having Turkish takeout. They didn't dine together all that often, especially not on social calls but they did that night. Olivia recounted the whole affair of finding out from a secret service agent that after the phone was taken away from him, Cyrus even threatened to have the doctors shot at.

His husband was a thoroughly insane human being by all accounts and yet the story brought tears to his eyes now. He missed the vibrancy and vitality with which his husband attacked life. He may not be the image of stability but he was so alive. He was always attracted that power Cyrus wielded and his intensity. He realized now the shine could be blinding as well as welcoming. He knew his husband could and would play the devil. He knew it but in this moment he just didn't care anymore. He wanted the lights to turn back on and he wanted to have angry makeup sex and then less angry makeup sex. He wanted to the fall asleep in a with his head over Cyrus's chest so he could listen to his stupid malfunctioning heart. He wanted to slap Cyrus so he would just wake the fuck up already. He wanted to have a secret service agent shoot some doctors.


	5. Awake

"Hello is this Mr. Novak?" Honestly the number of times people had asked him that over the past few days was ludicrous. You would think there was a cult following that might be impersonating him or a surge of cell-phone robberies like, 'No, this is Paul Nickle; I stole his phone but I'll make sure to pass on the message'

"Yes." He was tentative about getting his hopes up because the hospital had called on a false alarm and twice about insurance policy and co-pay.

"Cyrus Beene is awake and he's asking to be released."

"Oh my goodness thats wonderful! Is he fit to be taken home because I can come and pick him up right now."

"I think you'd best do that. I must warn you though he may be a bit confused at first seeing as he was in a coma for a number of days. He has also been quite abrasive to the staff in an attempt to be released so he may have some mood changes."

Well now James knew it was his husband they were talking about. A few parting niceties were exchanged and then he hung up with great satisfaction. A scarf and coat were snatched up off the kitchen counter and then the man practically jumped into his car. The traffic was bearable and the evening was pleasantly cool. It had been 4 days since Cyrus's heart attack and with every passing moment it had been harder to concentrate on matters not related to the heart.

He thought about every fight the two of them had had in the entirety of their relationship. The things he'd had to say and do so that they finally adopted their daughter. He thought about everything Cyrus had put him down for and every time James had knocked Cyrus thoroughly back into place. He thought about the slack jawed and empty eyed stares he'd received out of utter shock. He could still feel the heaviness in the back of his throat from the moments where he'd been too overwhelmed to respond and the surliness in his stomach after a particularly nasty spat.

Then as one naturally would, he ruminates on all the various locations and positions where the two have them had done the deed. He especially loved to think about the first time they did things slowly and properly. The first few months of their relationship had been fast and hard and very hot but nothing that crossed the line of casual and dove into true intimacy.

He still remembered the orange paisley duvet of the hotel bed and the way Cyrus wore and nearly suffocated him with the amount of sandalwood cologne he'd put on for the occasion. He remembered the softness of the kisses against his abdomen and the way Cyrus trailed them up to the nape of his neck. He could almost feel the the tip of Cyrus's tongue on the underside of chin and the heat of his open mouth making its way ever closer to James's. Each kiss had been a languish and fiery exchange. There bodies grew closer and more familiar with drawn out touches and heady moments and the fire between them had been steady.

He had pinned Cyrus down and slide into him tenderly, each thrust a smooth slow push inward that gained momentum and power. They moved together and breathed together and sweat and came together. Well Cyrus came a few minutes after and James had done some interesting things with his tongue to facilitate the process. That had been some amazing sex.

He rolled into the hospital garage and began to think about something far more appropriate and much less stimulating. How was he going to greet his husband. Last time he had basically said fuck it and collapsed into his husband's arms but the offence of late was much heftier. He knew he should hold on to some of the anger or keep up some pretense of offense purely because he didn't want to be a punching bag in the future.

The lobby was a haze of people but he knew exactly where to go, he had spent too much time pacing the halls not to. He was in that very same corridor now with the grey speckled floors and he was going to see his husband breathing and awake. 5 feet, 3 feet and than 2 feet and then. He was there and he saw his husbands eyes open, those big watery blue eyes. He couldn't breathe or think or any of it. Fate goes ever as it must.

He walked over and just plopped straight into the man's arms. He expected Cyrus to hug him back or react in some way but he just lay there beneath him, arms still. He turned his head up and was met with a blank stare.

"Cyrus." he whispered. James watched with a sort of detached dread as his husband's head tilted.

"I know who you are. I know I do." he replied. He turned away and his cheeks turned a sharp pink. He was clearly trying to piece things together and he was embarrassed. James wrapped his arms and hugged him upright. He tucked his chin onto Cyrus's shoulder. "

Don't worry. It will all come back to you. I'm here"


	6. Remembering

How pleasant open your eyes to a bright white light only to be greeted by a sniveling old women with a large needle. She was angling the syringe downward right as he was regained his general awareness.

"Stop that. Don't you dare put that thing in me. Where am I and who gave you permission to plunge sharp objects into my flesh." The poor women almost fell over in shock. This man hadn't so much as twitched his nose for the past four days and suddenly he was awake and yelling. Most people had the decency to ask nicely about their situations coma or otherwise. She supposed the needle may have scared him quite a bit and forgive him the outburst. There were always a few squeamish ones no matter the age.

"Sir its so wonderful that you are awake. I was just going to inject some minerals into your bloodstream. You've been in a coma due to a severe heart attack and thats how we introduce some of the necessary nutrients into your system."

"Whos the president ?" he asked with a sudden fervor. He wasn't sure what possessed him to ask this but it felt radically important.

"Oh goodness sir you haven't been out that long. I'm sorry to have mislead you. Its been four days since you entered the coma. I'd say you're a very lucky man, in my professional opinion I would have estimated at least another week before you returned to full consciousness."

That was wonderful wasn't it. Except he couldn't quite remember who he was to be so lucky. He remembered that he was someone and he remembered all the functions thereof but the specifics were escaping him. He was fairly sure that he was married and that it was to a man but he felt something unsettling when his mind wandered to that area of himself. Maybe he was getting a divorce and couldn't remember or maybe his husband had died or something else awful had occurred. He felt his heart rate quicken and he needed to be let out of here as soon as possible. He needed to figure out what was going on.

"You need to release me immediately. I need to see my husband. I need to see him and you need to release me."

"Sir please don't excite yourself, you've just suffered through an intense health scare and you shouldn't strain yourself. We're going to have to do some final tests and check all your vitals to ensure your capacity and we might need you to stay for another day or so to fully recover. The comatose state presents many potential issues and there are necessary adjustments."

"Recovery days is that a joke. I've been asleep for four days so clearly I've been in recuperation overtime. I'm fine and since you have no grounds to hold me I would like to leave."

Cyrus began fiddling with the breathing contraption on his head and the nurse leaned into the hallway to alert the doctors that Cyrus was awake and agitated.

"Sir since your condition has not yet been certified as stable we have full authority to detain you unless your spouse or someone else of legal standing deems you capable of leaving our care. Please stop trying to remove that its helping you to breath."

"I can breath just fine on my own but if you insist on these ridiculous protocols than I will insist you call my husband."

The nurse, whose name was Sylvia thanks for asking, had just about had it with this man so she decided to forgo verbal communication entirely and simply nodded. She was going to call the mans husband anyway. The man probably had to deal with this on a daily basis, poor thing. She hurried off to check on another patient and start getting things in order for the nasty coma man. It dawned on her that he could be having a mood swing reaction to his previous state and decided to add it to her patient notes.

Cyrus had been sitting in the hospital room staring at the ceiling for the past hour and a half. He was trying to picture his husbands face and it honestly scaring him that he couldn't manage it. He had just remembered his own name and it was mostly because he'd half overheard a nurse say it. He closed his eyes and concentrated very hard. He remembered that he had long thin fingers with calluses and that his lips were chapped. He remembered that his hair was dark and that he had to take off his glasses when he got in the shower. The shower! There was something important about the shower and he knew he was right on the edge of unlocking the knowledge.

A nurse lay her hand on his shoulder and he jerked forward. It all slipped away again and he thought he might bite the women. She was trying to convince him that they needed to take a blood sample to run some tests and he was trying to convince her to leave him alone. She took the blood in the end.

He tried thinking about his husband again but nothing was surfacing. Maybe if he thought about himself it would lead him down the right path. What did he do for a living? He was pretty sure that it was a high pressure job; this was in fact his second heart attack at the ripe age of 56. He did something important, something highstakes. He wasn't getting anywhere with himself but he was too embarrassed to ask. Plus they might not let him out if they knew he could his memory was shot. He simply tried again.

He was really getting nervous now. It had been almost 2 hours and all he had managed to round up from his scrambled brain was that his husband had dark hair, glasses and that he was most likely in Washington D.C and that he was probably some sort of politician. These were not definites nor were they helpful or reassuring tidbits. He couldn't remember his own husband's name for the love of god.

He heard loud footsteps clacking down the hallway towards his room. He looked up from his hands and there in the doorway was a snappily dressed man with a light purple scarf and dark square framed glasses. He knew this man, he really did but who was it? His thoughts were all miles apart clammering to be heard through thick walls.

The man's eyes watered and he raced across the room in a matter of seconds and fell on top of Cyrus. Was this man his husband? Should he hug him? What if it was a cousin or a friend? He wanted to run his fingers through this mans hair but he dared not find out the hard way if this man was a relative. That would be beyond the realm of embarrassment.

The man's face turned to look into his and he whispered Cyrus's name with the kind of desperation reserved for lovers. Cyrus thought but he wasn't sure. It was so confusing but he knew this man.

"I know who you are. I know I do." He did but he didn't and it was shameful. He ducked his head on instinct and he felt the heat of embarrassment spread to his cheeks.

"Don't worry. It will all come back to you." the man replied. There fingers slipped together into a tight hold. The man leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead. This was definitely his husband. Flashes of them together were seeping into his mind.

A park bench in the summer and where they did the Sunday crossword together; Cyrus with a sort of intellectual zeal and James with a set reluctance as he really just wanted to read the damn thing. Yes James that was his name! James had an article in that paper and it was on the third page. He remembered reading that article and laughing at the way his husband pulled together strings of evidence so effectively and yet so absolutely off the mark. The article was about the president and his alleged affair with that red headed women.

Then that part of him came tumbling in. He worked for the president, President Fitzgerald Grant the third and they had a re-election coming up. He needed to check in on that and get things going. He had polls to check and the damn Vice President was running against them. The Vice President, oh god he remembered everything about that stupid Vice President. How he had swindled his husband and those pictures. Oh goodness he remembered it all and suddenly he couldn't quite breathe. He heard a beeping on the monitor and a nurse stepped over. She pressed a cold towel to his head and ushered his husband over to a chair.

"Sir, I need you to take some deep breathes. Your heart rate is picking up and you really can not afford to have another heart attack. Whatever it is that you are thinking about you have to stop and calm down. Deep steady breaths sir, through your nose."

Cyrus closed his eyes and took the damn breathes until the beeping stopped. He opened his eyes to a face utterly distorted with concern. He ushered him over with his hand.

James sidled down beside him and took both of the mans hands into his own. "Please don't scare me like this anymore. I really can't handle it. I thought I was going to have my very own heart attack just then and it would serve you right. You'd know how it feels worrying half to death on the otherside. How are you? What do you remember and what in the god lords name is stressing you out so damn much?"

Cyrus smiled despite himself. His husband was a reporter through and through.

"I'm fine. I remember almost everything. Most of it came back to me when I saw you. I remembered that Sunday last June when we were doing the crossword and you were just about ready to strangle me because you wanted to read your article instead. Then I remembered the president and that I work for him. Can you imagine I'd completely forgotten that? The only thing I could remember for hours was that I had a husband and he wore glasses and had dark hair. I couldn't even remember anyone's name."

"What about the stress? You have to tell me what's going on because clearly you can't handle the information on your own."

"Well actually. I um. You see what it was," Cyrus employed every stall tactic he could reasonable pull off in one sentence. It wasn't that he was embarrassed although he certainly was, but he rather thought his husband wouldn't believe him. He remembered now that he was quite an amoral and frankly unsentimental man.

"Cyrus Rutherford Beene you tell me what gave you a heart attack this instant or I swear I will give you another one myself and this time no CPR."

" I was thinking about our marriage. I was thinking about what an indescribable monster I was and I was thinking about all the writing on the wall and how you were and probably still are going to leave me. I thought about it and I stressed about it and I heard you coming and I just couldn't handle it. I have not used to so many emotions really. I am a lustful and strange man and the one person I've loved in my whole life was going to leave me cold and alone and I was scared. And then today I was terrified because I could barely remember my own name and I see you and it it all comes rushing back in bits and I remembered our first coffee together and that time in the Berlin hotel and the crossword puzzle and the vice president and I got scared again."

James, a man of many words written and otherwise, sat still and quiet for a long time. Finally he opened his lips twitched and he opened his mouth to speak.

"You Bastard. I can't believe you. You gave yourself a heart attack instead of apologizing like a normal human being. I love you for reasons completely unbeknown to me and if you had opened your large and unreasonable mouth and apologized. I was angry and tired of being toyed with but I didn't want to leave you, not really. Stop having heart attacks. I hate you." He started and finished in one breath and then collapsed on top of Cyrus his big idiot husband. The man gave himself a heart attack because he couldn't handle his humanity. The things he went through in this marriage honestly.


	7. Together

The drive back to the house had been silent but it wasn't the stiff and uncomfortable silence that Cyrus had become accustomed to in the past few weeks. It was just that they both had so much to say and do that there was no where to start and the intensity of it all was holding their tongues. How could you talk about day care when your husband just had a heart attack?

How could you begin to apologize for the the tremendous mistakes that you had made if your husband had held you and comforted you after your coma? How could they jeopardize the haze of calm which settled after these disasters when all they wanted was to be together?

They rolled into the garage and walked into the house. Cyrus removed his coat and hung it on the nearest chair and James whipped off his scarf in a single fluid movement. Cyrus watched as he unbuttoned his jacket and shrugged it off his shoulder. Four days in a coma and weeks before that. He wondered if enough had been forgiven or if maybe it wouldn't matter right now.

James looked up in the same instant that Cyrus shifted his gaze downward. It was awkward and a little dangerous to make a move at this point in the relationship but he wanted to. Maybe he should ask although that amount of consideration might actually give James a heart attack. Cyrus was not a compassionate man but James was an exception to everything. The man he didn't shot for the president; the man he didn't hide from the world because of his political stance; the man who made him care about emotions and life. If his job was his heroin and reason to breathe than his husband was why his life was full, why he laughed, sweat and cried, why he was still by any reach human.

James came over and quietly and pushed him against the wall. He leaned up and placed his lips on the base of Cyrus's throat. He kissed lightly and with the type of slow burning passion that he hadn't felt for years. James looked up hesitantly and then their lips met again. It was slow and hesitant. They were as unsure about themselves as they had ever been.

"Lets go upstairs." James insisted with a touch of desperation. When they reached the bedroom there was another wavering moment before they came together on the base of the bed. There kisses quickly escalated from gentle and hesitant to frantic. The heat rose and they began to divest each other of clothes; James yanking off Cyrus's shirt and while the man slithered out of his pants. The remaining clothes flew off in a bit of a frenzy.

Cyrus held him loosely around the shoulders and kissed him full on the mouth. The kisses were powerful and fluid, the opening and closing of there mouths even and intense. They slipped into the moments with practiced ease and renewed passion. Cyrus trailed his fingers down James' side and then followed the same path with a variety of kisses, for all his faults Cyrus possessed great talent and finesse in the movements of his mouth.

He continued to followed the lines of James's body, tracing where his lower right rib stuck out with his tongue; laving the thin swath of skin below his belly button. He made sure to dip his tongue into the hollows between hip and abdomen before he continued downward.

James's cock was flushed pink, it stood full and pulsing. Cyrus's tongue snuck out, circling the tip of his cock. He was prompted by James's long moan, and continued swirling his tongue around the member as James' hands slide up and down his back in circles. Cyrus sucked hard and let his teeth graze lightly on the shaft and James quivered and thrust his hips in response.

There were hard thrusts and bucking hips, soft moans and almost shrieks. There was wetness and sharp sucks and a languid pace of something to be savored.

"Oh god, Cy, oh oh AH" Whiteness exploded behind his eyes and he came in violent spurts. Cyrus swallowed and let the limp member slide out of his mouth. James was slick with sweat and he shifted forward so his head fell on Cyrus's chest with a thump.

Cyrus's own member was aching fiercely and he had missed the feel of James more than anything. He started to pump himself when James reached out with slender fingers and gripped his member forcefully. Cyrus exhaled sharply at the contact, the tactile pleasure of friction was innumerable.

It wasn't long before he tumbled into ecstasy with loud long moan. They curled up together on top of the covers to spent to do much more. The sun was set on the past and the clouds had lifted to the present. There was still shit to get through and so much to say and do but there was renewed sense of togetherness. They will enough.


End file.
